Helping Panicked Federal Executives

John and Jane are comforted by their private sector neighbors, and get advice on how to handle their "Brave New World." Satire on steroids.

Repeat, this is satire. Any resemblance of these characters to real people is purely coincidental. As for events, not so much.

“Biff,” his wife Buffy softly mentioned as they quietly perused the internet on their laptops on a cold, cloudy Saturday at their upscale condo in Crystal City, Virginia, next to Washington’s Reagan Airport. “I’m worried about John and Jane.”

Biff paused and looked up from his MacBook, between sips of his newly-opened Ledson Zinfandel and preparing to watch the Washington Capitals play the Pittsburgh Penguins in a rare mid-afternoon contest. He watched an American Airlines flight’s final approach from the north as it prepared to land at Ronald Reagan International Airport. He paid a little more attention to flights in and out of Reagan since the terrible plane crash on January 29th.

The interruption bugged him, but since Buffy was mentioning their beloved neighbors, he quickly focused his attention.

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“They both work for government agencies, and they seem far less social since Inauguration Day,” Buffy opined. “I’m worried. I wonder if they’ve been furloughed or seen their jobs eliminated. I wonder if they’re scared. We should invite them for a casual dinner over pizza tonight to ensure they’re okay.”

Biff pondered for a moment and nodded in agreement. After all, John and Jane had been watching their condo while they frequently traveled since they were always home. Biff had found John a valuable contact when there were problems moving ships through the St. Lawrence Seaway between the US and Canada. They would even pick up their daughter from preschool if Biff and Buffy ran late from their lobbying jobs in downtown Washington and had no children.

Having remote workers as neighbors could be a huge plus.

John and Jane were the Senior Executive Service career members and human resource professionals. In John’s case, he was responsible for the human resource needs of the St. Lawrence Seaway Development Corporation, a wholly owned subsidiary of the US Government. Jane directed a human resources team under the direction of a Deputy Assistant Secretary for Administration at the US Department of Transportation. They both previously worked in the same building, the Department of Transportation’s headquarters in southwest Washington steps away from Nationals Stadium, and both had transitioned to remote work since the pandemic.

They didn’t miss having to shower and dress early every morning for the Metro commute on the Yellow line to L’Enfant Plaza, which connected with a Green line train to the Navy Yard station, where the US DOT’s relatively new headquarters was located. It was a half-hour commute on a regular day. Even previous Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg rarely, if ever, showed up at the office.

Their combined annual gross incomes totaled nearly $370,000 annually. Each had more than 25 years of service and experience but was short of the magic 30 years of service by age 55 that would allow them to retire comfortably with maximum benefits, including bypassing Medicare for the generous Federal Employees Health Benefits Program. If they could make it to age 62, they’d get a 10 percent bonus!

They were so close! And yet, both were unsettled, even terrified, by the evil DOGE—the Elon Musk-led Department of Government Efficiency—meandering through their computer systems and holding them accountable. They’d never seen such a thing, and talk of furloughs and layoffs terrified them and all their colleagues.

Buffy picked up her smartphone and called Jane. After three rings, she answered with a soft, hollow “Hello?”

“Jane, hi, it’s Buffy!” Jane let out a deep breath of relief. “Biff and I are ordering some pizza and hoping you'll join us! We’ve not seen you around the condominium recently and want to catch up. Can you come over?”

Jane sighed deeply. “That is so nice of you. We have been hunkering down since That Man took over a month ago and began changing our lives. We so appreciate it. We will be right over. We’d offer to bring something, but I’m afraid we have to cut back with unemployment being a real possibility, and we still have a mortgage on our condo that we bought three years ago. And you know what real estate prices are like here in DC’s suburbs, especially Crystal City.

“Oh, good grief, Jane,” Buffy dismissed. We have more wine than we need—Biff is opening up an excellent Staglin Cabernet from California—bring nothing but yourselves. We are your friends! The pizza will be here in an hour, so pop over at your convenience. It's very casual—come as you are! You’re neighbors and friends! You’ve had us over and hosted us plenty of times, so it’s time for us to return the favor. We know the ethics rules.”

Biff was the lobbyist for a major shipping company that traversed the St. Lawrence Seaway, the Panama Canal, and other routes, including to and from China. After years of toiling at the National Park Service, Buffy worked in human resources for the Department of Transportation and was in charge of implementing diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs. That was tough—getting “diverse” workers at remote national parks wasn't easy, especially out west. And forget getting “diverse” interpreters to discuss Stonewall Jackson’s monument at Manassas Battlefield. Her efforts to remove the Stonewall monument were supported by her Biden Administration supervisors but rebuffed, and she feared what her new Trumpian supervisors might learn of her efforts. She was terrified.

Biff and Buffy worked closely with their neighbors and others who shared their personal and professional interests. It was the Washington Way.

It wasn’t long before Buffy heard a knock at their door. She ran to open the door to find Jane and John in very casual sweats and Crocs, their usual attire since they began remote work more than four years ago. John wore a Team Canada hockey jersey, a gift from his St. Lawrence Seaway Commission colleagues. Jane wore baggy sweats emblazoned with the logo of her alma mater, Smith College in Massachusetts.

Jane’s arms were folded across her chest, and her eyes expressed fear as she and John quickly entered. It was as if they were trying to hide their movements from someone since they usually sauntered through their front door.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Jane exclaimed. “You have no idea what it’s like to live under this kind of terror.”

Biff, who had spent his entire career in the private sector, raised his eyebrows. “I do. My employers have been through multiple layoffs. I have my job today because one of our competitors laid me off, and it wasn’t the first time. I’m better off as a result.

Silence.

“Fear not,” Biff said, placing his arms on Jane’s shoulders, her arms still folded defensively across her chest. “This will be fine. We’re here for you.”

“But you don’t get it!” Jane almost yelled as she paced in her Crocs inside Biff and Buffy’s kitchen. “We had a promise. A promise of permanent employment once we won career government jobs. We aren’t supposed ever to lose our jobs!” Jane began to hyperventilate as John reached to hug and comfort her. Buffy started to look for a paper bag. “And we’ve never been asked to cut our budgets!”

Buffy hurriedly opened a small paper bag and placed it over Jane’s mouth as her hyperventilation began to subside. Jane nodded in appreciation as she began to calm down. "

“Let me get you a glass of wine,” Biff said softly as he opened the bottle of Staglin Cabernet. “You’ll like this,” he said, slowly pouring glasses for John and Jane through an aerator. “Strong, yet subtle, smooth, and flavorful, with balanced tannins. Fruit forward with a clean finish. It will calm your soul. It pairs nicely with the prosciutto pizza that should be delivered shortly.”

John and Jane calmed down as they sat at the kitchen table with their Rosenthal glasses of Staglin wine, swirled them, took deep breaths, and sipped them.

“This is good,” John said. “I needed this. Thank you.

Biff silently poured glasses for him and Buffy as they slowly sat down at the kitchen table with John and Jane, who were very stressed. Biff swirled his glass, studied the “legs” on his glass, and quietly tasted and declared his appreciation. “This is so good. I’m delighted to share it with you.”

Biff leaned over the table and glared at John and Jane. They raised their heads in anticipation of what he was about to say.

“What you’re going through is very similar to what Americans outside the Beltway experience daily. I know you think you had a promise of permanent employment, but that’s not the way the world works,” John said as respectfully and kindly as he could. “You should Google ‘layoffs’ or ‘plant closings’ every morning. You’ll find many. You have no clue how many people living in places like Flint, Michigan, or Henryetta, Oklahoma, have no choice when their plants close or their jobs are terminated.

“But I’m here to help you. I know you have a combined 40-plus years of government service. What disturbs you that I can help with?”

John speaks. “Elon Musk’s team is demanding a report by midnight Monday on what we accomplished the past week or two,” John said. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Biff laughed out loud, then quickly regained his composure. “I’m sorry. In the private sector, we call them ‘weekly reports.’ We take a few hours on a Thursday or Friday to outline what we did during the week or two. It both informs our supervisors and justifies our positions. Knowing we are doing them, we look for ways to promote the value our jobs bring to our employers.”

John and Jane were dumbfounded and silent.

“Just do what they ask. Surely, you can summarize your accomplishments for the week, John. You have a big job! You’re responsible for filling important positions within the St. Lawrence Seaway! That’s a big deal!”

John and Jane looked at each other in disbelief. A knock at the door startled Jane but indicated that the pizza had arrived. Biff had ordered the finest from A Modo Mia, a pizzeria in neighboring Arlington. John was impressed. This was among the best pizzerias in the Washington, DC, area. 

“You don’t understand,” John said as they sat to enjoy the pizza. “We do what we must, but my golf game has improved; I’m at Army-Navy Country Club four days a week. My handicap is down to five strokes. And Jane. . .”

She interrupted emotionally as he spoke. “How will I watch ‘The View’ if I have to return to the office? Sunny Hostin is my hero! And don’t get me started on the rest of the MSNBC team! It’s where I get the information I need to function in government daily!” Jane began hyperventilating again but rested as Buffy scrambled for the paper bag.

“I wouldn’t mention watching ‘The View’ in my report to DOGE,” Biff said. “Or improving my golf game. And frankly, I’d bite the dust and get back to my office sooner than later. You’re not far away. You can commute together.”

Jane reached for Buffy’s paper bag and slowly breathed deeply into it again.

“Guys, guys,” Biff extolled as he reached for the bottle of Staglin Cabernet to refill everyone’s glasses. “All you have to do is tell the story of your work by midnight Monday, and you’ll at least buy time. John shouldn’t have any problem; Jane, you’ll need to keep the DEI programs off your report and discuss the critical jobs you’re filling.”

Jane began to sob. “But my work is measured by how many white men that I DON’T hire! All my metrics are based on race and gender! I’m so screwed!”

Silence.

“I’d find other metrics to publish,” Biff said. “It’s a new world now, based on merit. Forget race and gender.”

Jane glared at Biff.

“Jane, surely your hires were based on merit while consistent with diversity and inclusion,” Biff responded.

Silence.

“I think we’d better head home,” John said, seeing the emotion in Jane’s face. “Thanks very much for the pizza and wine. And thanks for your advice. We’ll figure this out.”

They stood and stiffly hugged each other, Jane upset by Biff and Buffy’s failure to sympathize with her fully. “I didn’t sign up for the private sector,” she said, arms folded. “I signed up for government service. I deserve my job, my salary, and my lifestyle.”

Silence.

They walked towards the door. Buffy thanked them for coming over and assured them one last time. “This is going to work out. You’re going to be fine. You both are very talented professionals. Do your best, and let us know if we can help.”

“We are from the government and here to help,” John said, trading glances with Jane, who nodded. “I hope we can count on you to support us.”

“Oh, we are your friends and neighbors and are here for you, no matter what happens,” Biff said. “But I also hope you realize that government servants are supposed to be here for us, too.”

Silence.